Change
by and she knew love
Summary: She sometimes wonders what it might have been like if she'd said yes. Brennan's thoughts in "The Maggots in the Meathead" 6x03.


**Just a short piece on Brennan's thoughts in "The Maggots in the Meathead" (6x03). I've never really been angry at Booth before, but this season really does it. Gah! Emily is doing a fantastic job of making me feel for Brennan in a way I've never really felt for her before. **

**Disclaimer: Bones is not mine. Obviously. Or it would be "Hannah who?" and a whole lotta truth between Brennan and Booth right about now. **

* * *

She sometimes wonders what it might have been like if she'd said yes. She dreams about it too, dreams that she takes Booth's hand when he asks her and they live happily ever after. Illogical, of course, but dreams usually are. She's also aware that dreams reflect reality and wonders if there's something inside her that regrets her decision to turn him away.

Sometimes, more often these days, she wonders what it would be like to be in a relationship with Booth. She imagines that he looks at her with that tingling gaze of his, the one that he used to turn on her all the time. She imagines that _that_ smile—because Booth has different smiles—is for her and only her. She imagines, unfairly and unreasonably, that Hannah doesn't exist.

But she does exist, and Booth doesn't look at Brennan with those eyes and that smile anymore. He hasn't looked at her—_really_ looked—in a long time.

So she writes the dreams into her latest book, knowing that Booth won't read it. He doesn't nag her about her chapters anymore, asking to read them even before she writes them. She doesn't think he even reads her books anymore, so it's safe to put real emotions in them. Real pain.

It helps, if only a little.

* * *

She sits in Booth's apartment and wonders when it grew so foreign. She remembers sitting in his apartment countless times before, eating Thai and working late into the night on case files, or just sitting there to enjoy each other's company like the time Booth insisted that she was too tired to drive and made her sleep on his couch. But it's different all of a sudden. Strange. No longer a place between her and Booth alone.

She looks at the bags in the center of the room, Hannah's bags. She'd thought it would take days for Booth's girlfriend to move in, days for the both of them to adjust, but it's taken minutes. Less than an hour, and already, the place is Booth's _and_ Hannah's. Less than an hour, and their lives have been tied together that much tighter. Brennan wonders how she hadn't noticed how serious it was getting between Hannah and Booth. She wonders when this blond reporter slipped so seamlessly into Booth's life, effectively taking a place with Booth that used to be hers.

She wonders why it hurts as badly as it does.

She forces a smile, something that she's quite experienced in. Cam and Angela sit there and laugh with her, but unlike hers, their smiles are genuine. She can tell that they truly like Hannah, and she wishes she could truly like Hannah too. Booth's girlfriend is incredibly kind and interesting in her own way, but Brennan can't bring herself to like her. So she just pretends, for Booth's sake and also for her own. She can't break, not over anything, not even a man she suspects she might have liked very strongly, maybe even _loved_. She's stronger than this.

So she laughs with Hannah and the others, and when Booth comes in, she tries not to feel hurt at the way his eyes jump straight to Hannah's instead of to her, like they used to. He comes in and smiles widely, that smile she thought was for her alone, but it's aimed at Hannah, of course. She smiles anyway and pretends things were like they used to be.

The others get up to leave, and she silently listens to their reasons. Cam has Michelle, and Angela has Hodgins and the baby. Things to pull them away, to pull them home. She thinks about her own home, about the darkness and emptiness, about how her home is filled with priceless artifacts and anthropological research. She wonders how her house can be so full and so empty all at once.

She doesn't have any excuse to slip away, so she just sits on the couch with a smile stretched across her face as Booth strides over and greets Hannah warmly, without so much as a _Hey, Bones_ thrown in her direction. She focuses on the results of the scene, like this entire event is an experiment, and reassures herself with the conclusions: love is ephemeral, love is only a product of chemical reactions, and love possibly doesn't exist. If Booth had _loved_ her, it would have taken him much longer than seven months to move on. If he had _loved_ her, maybe, even after moving on, he still would throw her a glance every once in a while, to show that she hasn't been forgotten even as he's moved forward. But he doesn't. So logically, her theories on love have proven correct in every sense—every sense but one.

Because as illogical as it sounds, she wants Booth to be happy. Anthropologically speaking, having come to the conclusion that she is…attracted to Booth in more ways than one, and that she and Booth have desirable genes for mating, she should be fighting for Booth. Traditionally, when one is attracted to another, he or she fights for the right to have that mate, to claim that mate as one's own. So what does it mean when despite all that, she wants to let him go?

He spots the rotary phone, and she can't help but tense a little in anticipation. She can already tell he likes it; there's that excited gleam in his eye that she remembers.

"What's this?" he asks, even though he already knows.

Brennan refrains from answering, even though she wants to, and listens instead to Hannah describe what it is. She wants to jump in with more details, like how it was made and how important she knows a rotary phone is to him, but this is Hannah's moment, not hers. Hannah quite graciously gives her a nod in reference, but it hurts when Booth doesn't even give her a look. He just keeps smiling at his beautiful blond girlfriend, the bow in one hand and the receiver of the phone in the other.

"No, I love it!" he exclaims, eyes glowing. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She's excited that he likes it, that she was able to choose a present that was suitable for the occasion and that Booth so obviously treasures. She's so excited that it takes her a moment to realize that the thanks was for Hannah alone, and that her _you're welcome_ has gone unnoticed.

That's when she realizes the truth: she no longer has a place in Booth's life. She's been shut out just as surely as if he's closed a door on her. Suddenly watching him kiss Hannah without any regard for her feelings or thoughts is too much. She has to get out.

She stands up to leave, a smile stretched across her face and excuses on her lips. Hannah insists that she stay for dinner, but Brennan shakes her head and throws out a traditional argument, one she knows Booth won't protest against. And with her coat in her hands, she walks down the hallway of _their_ apartment and wonders when it all changed.

"Hey, Bones!"

She's surprised to hear Booth come after her, surprised but pleased all the same. He holds the bow awkwardly in his hands, and he looks for a moment like he doesn't quite know what to say.

Finally, he says, "I'll see you tomorrow."

And just for a second there, for the briefest of moments, she sees the old Booth again. She sees the man she knows, the man who promised her he would never leave her, the man she loved once. The man she hasn't seen since he left her in that airport almost eight months ago.

"Yes," she says quietly. "Tomorrow."

He smiles at her, and it has the hint of familiarity to it. It's almost the smile she knows. She thinks that for the first time since they returned to Washington, Booth is looking _at_ her instead of _through_ her. She thinks in that moment he might be able to read her like he used to.

But he doesn't say anything. He doesn't comment on her smile, which he must see through. How could he _not_ see through it? He's known her for so long, so well. Surely he can see past her defenses to the woman she is underneath. He did once.

_Once._ That's all it is, isn't it? Memories. Reality is something else. It's changed, and somehow, she's been left behind.

She closes the door behind her and swallows back the tears burning hot in her throat.


End file.
